Summoned to a Shattered World

Birthright Chapter 1 - A Blood-Soaked Arrival

I was sound asleep in my university dorm when I felt something soaking through my clothing. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes. Had I pissed myself? The horror of the idea chased the dregs of sleep from my mind.

I could definitely feel something wet. But to my relief and confusion, it seemed to be coming from the bed underneath me. I was spreading through my bed as I fumbled for the light on my nightstand. What was this stuff?

I finally got the light on and recoiled, slamming my back against the wall. It was blood. There was a pool of blood leaking from inside my bed. I knew for sure that I was awake, yet I still rubbed my eyes. This was unbelievable.

I was scrambling off the bed, without any sort of plan in mind, when I froze. The pool of blood, or something inside it, was holding me tightly by the leg. Without pausing to check what it was, I flailed blindly.

But whatever was holding me wouldn't be dislodged. Irresistible strength pulled me off my feet and back toward the bed. Back and then down through the bed. I stared back over my shoulder in disbelief, my leg had already disappeared inside the pool of blood.

There was no pain, no sense of it having been severed, just numbness. The blood had come to life and was pulling me into itself. Howling in terror, I grabbed the edge of my bed and fought the pull with all my might. But it only grew stronger and before long I was dragged screaming into the oblivion beyond the pool.

Everything went black. Neither conscious nor unconscious, I simply drifted until I heard a voice. High-pitched, it was shouting something. Whoever it was, it sounded urgent. Given that they were practically shouting into my ear, I found it hard to ignore. Why can't you let me sleep? But there was no denying the voice.

I opened my eyes for the second time that night and saw a black-haired girl with red skin shaking me. There were tears in her eyes, but she didn't look sad. In fact, she looked furious. The eyes themselves were pools of pure black, with crimson irises. Seeing that I'm awake, she stopped shaking me and sneered. "Finally, now get up."

I didn't have much inclination to follow the commands of whoever this rude girl was, but I found my body was already getting up of its own accord. As if that wasn't alarming enough, I realized my journey had left me drenched in blood. Next to that, I didn't pay the black, bat-like wings protruding from the girl's back much attention.

Standing up, I looked down at her. The top of her head didn't reach my chin, even with the small curved horns protruding from her head. Tapping her foot on the carpeted floor, she demanded my name. Not really in the mood for pleasantries in the midst of this insanity, I intended to say something quite different. But instead my mouth moved of its own accord. "Cathal Moore."

She smirked, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. "Good, the binding was successful. Kneel."

My legs gave out beneath me, knees slamming into the ground with a wet thud. She nodded, pleased as I sat there dazed. "I'm only going to say this once, so I suggest you listen. From this day forward you are mine, body and soul. You are the property of the illustrious Lady Sarinknell, Demon Lord of the First Circle. You will serve as my sword and my shield until your dying breath. Do you understand?"

For a supposed Demon Lord, her clothes were pretty shabby. Just a tattered old dress. If it weren't for her strange features, I don't think I could have picked her out of a crowd of medieval townspeople. When I faltered for a reply, now able to control my own actions, she slapped me hard across the face. "I said, do you understand?"

I clutched the bleeding scratches on my face, her long nails were quite sharp. They were more like claws; black just like her wings. I took a deep breath and shouted, putting all my terror and confusion into it. "I don't understand anything!"